Still I Fly
by Saber The F4U Corsair
Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?
1. Crash and Burn

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

Author's Note: Chevyson Airfield is based off of Henderson Field that was used in World War II.

Chapter 1: Crash and Burn

Location: Chevyson Airfield, Glendal Canal, Pacific Ocean, Time: March 5, 1943, 10:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

This was it. My first patrol with the Jolly Wrenches. I was trained under a Corsair by the name Skipper Riley. Me and my friend Lucas were just taxing onto the runway when Skipper rolled over.

"What took you so long Private Sparkplugs, and Davies," Skipper asked.

"Sorry we're late, Sir. Our repaints took a little longer then expected," I replied.

Our repaints included our numbers, and the Jolly Wrenches signature Piston and Cross-wrenches insignia. Lucas number was 23, and mine was 53.

"Alright, let's get onto patrol then," he said as he proceeded to the runway.

Location: Glendal Canal, Above the Pacific Ocean, Time: March 5, 1943, 10:30 A.M.

"Hey, Lucas, can you see anything down there," I asked.

"Negative, Saber," he replied.

"What about you Jigsaw Two," I asked the plane next to Skipper.

He looked down at the water below us.

"Look Skipper. Enemy Ship, Two O' Clock low, two miles. Easy pickings, what do you say," he asked Skipper.

"Negative, Jigsaw Two. Our orders are to recon, and report back," Skipper replied.

"Oh come on, Skip, it'll be a turkey shoot," Jigsaw Two said.

"Let's do it, Skipper," said another plane.

"Yeah, come on," said a couple of other planes.

Finally Skipper agreed.

"Alright. Let's go in for a closer look, but keep your distance," he replied.

Then we lined up in a dive-bomb formation and headed down towards the water. As we got lower and lower, bullets started flying towards us.

"Holy Cow, it's the whole enemy fleet," Jigsaw Two shouted.

We all opened fire onto the fleet below us, but it was no good. One by one we got shot down. Soon me and Skipper were the only planes left. As I saw Skipper got shot down, I got clipped by one of the enemy ships guns. I lost control and head towards the water. As I neared the water, I waited for the impact, but instead of hitting water, I hit concrete.

As I slid to a stop, I noticed I had crash-landed on a runway in what appeared to be a small town. Suddenly forklifts, a fire engine, and a couple of planes rushed over to me. As I started to lose consciousness, I heard a couple of voices shouting.

"Quickly, get him into the hanger. We need to stabilize him," one shouted.

Finally, I gave in and let darkness overtake me.

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Time: March 10, 2013, 7:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

I awoke slowly to the sounds of clanging metal, and a voice shouting.

"I've told you this several times before, and I will tell you it again, Dusty. You are not built for racing. You're built for dusting crops," shouted the voice.

As I fully awoke, I saw two vehicles I had never seen before. One was an orange, and white plane. The other one was a light purple and white forklift. I tried starting my engine, but it failed and I coughed roughly.

"Oh my," gasped the forklift as she sped over to me.

"No, stay away. I won't be an experiment for the enemy," I said scared.

"What are you talking about. I just want to check your vitals," she replied.

"I said stay away," I said pulling out my machine guns.

She backed away slowly, then quickly rolled outside along with the plane. Just then I heard a conversation.

"Yes, he is awake," I heard her say.

She quickly rolled back to the entrance, but kept her distance.

"Don't shoot me. I just want to let you know that a friend of yours is coming here," she said.

Suddenly a big blue plane rolled up to the hanger I was in. I recognized him immediately.

"Skipper," I asked surprised.

"Hello, Private Sparkplugs," he replied.


	2. Repairs, Recoveries, and Training

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

Author's Note: This chapter time skips just before the first Planes starts.

Chapter 2: Repairs, Recoveries, and Training

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Time: July 10, 2013, 05:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

It had been just over three months since I arrived in Propwash Junction. Two of those months I was being repaired. When Skipper told me that it had been 70 years since the Battle of Glendal Canal, let's just say I didn't take the news well. I had to learn a lot about this time. How planes behave, technology that was more advanced then I was used to. Heck, I was the same age as I had been 70 years ago. The only best part about this was I could now call Skipper old-timer.

I also had PTSD, the same with Skipper. He had more troubles with it such as being not able to fly. I was able to fly, however. The scars of the past still stung, but I managed.

I was sitting at the fuel depot with Dusty's friend Chug, and Skipper's assistant, Sparky. They were talking about different types of fuel.

"Yuck. Nowadays, they got soybean fuel, switchgrass fuel, algae fuel. Come on," complained Chug.

"Oh, healthy. No tank you," said Sparky disgusted.

"Tell me about it," I groaned.

"What's next, pistachio propane," asked Chug.

"What, are you nuts," replied Sparky.

"For my money, there's nothing like good old-fashioned corn fuel," said Chug with determination.

"Oh, yeah, you betcha," replied Sparky.

"I even made up a slogan," Chug said.

"Oh, this ought to be good," I replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, slogans are good," said Sparky, not even noticing my sarcasm.

"Corn. It gives you gas," Chug said.

He looked at me and Sparky for approval.

"Chug, I might be missing 70 years of things, but that slogan has sooooo many things wrong with it," I replied.

Chug looked down with sad eyes.

"Don't get me wrong, Chug. You gave it a try. Next time, try harder. You never know you might find a new slogan," I said flashing my signature wink.

He looked up with a smile on his fender.

"Uh, Chug, you're overfilling Sparky's gas containers," I said.

Chug quickly turned off the pump, and turned to Sparky.

"There you go, Sparky. You're all set," Chug said.

"Catch you later, Chug," Sparky said, speeding away with the fuel.

"Sure thing," replied Chug.

Suddenly Dusty's voice came onto the radio.

"_**This is Dusty Crophopper to Chug. Over,"**_ he said.

Chug sped over to the garage, and quickly got onto the radio.

"Uh, Chug isn't here. Come on, use the new call sign," replied Chug.

"_**Right, Right, Right. This is, uh, Strut Jetstream, calling Turbo Coach Truck Zilla. Ready for practice,"**_ Dusty asked.

"You betcha, Strut," replied Chug.

Chug got off the radio and sped out of the garage. Meanwhile, I got fueled up, and taxied onto the runway. I started my engine, tested my elevators, my ailerons, and my rudder. Putting my engine up to full throttle, I accelerated down the runway, and took off. As I took off, I saw Dusty fly between two radio towers on Skipper's hanger.

"I bet old Skips is havin' a meltdown in there," I said to myself.

Finally, I was in the air following Dusty as he started practicing for the Wings Around The Globe Rally qualifier this weekend. Ever since Dusty started practicing for this race, I decided to practice too. I couldn't rejoin the Navy because in the government's eyes, I was dead. So, it would be a little hard to fathom the idea that I was very much alive. Suddenly, Chug's voice scrambled onto my radio.

"_**Alright, you two, I got you in sight. Now let's start with some corn row sprints. Drop and give me twenty,"**_ he said.

Me and Dusty did just that. We pushed our engines to the max. I flew past Dusty very quickly.

"_**Alright, Guys. Keep it going. Oh, nice turn,"**_ he said to us.

"_**What else you got,"**_ Dusty asked Chug.

"_**Okay. Now let's try some treeline moguls,"**_ Chug replied.

Dusty cheered excitedly, as me and him flew over some trees.

"_**All the way up, and down. Don't be dogging it. That's how you do it. Looking good. Okay, adjust your angle of bank with your alien irons,"**_ Chug said, cheering us on.

"You mean ailerons," I asked Chug.

"_**Oh, yeah,"**_ Chug replied.

Suddenly I heard a pop behind me.

"_**Oh, great,"**_ groaned Dusty.

Knowing Dusty broke something, I turned around and escorted Dusty back to Propwash.

Location: Chug and Dottie's Fill N' Fly, Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Time: 6:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

I was sitting outside the hanger watching Dusty get checked over by Dottie. I wish he just wouldn't strain his engine so hard.

"Oil lines, and oil cooler check out," Dottie said.

"Mmm, hmm," replied Dusty.

"AN-8 fittings look fine," she said.

"Nice," replied Dusty.

"Wait a minute. You've worn out your main oil seal," she said accusingly.

"Huh. Really," asked Dusty.

"That kind of damage comes from extremely high speeds. Pushing the engine to the red line for prolonged periods of time," she said.

"That would be unwise," replied Dusty trying to hide that fact that he was racing.

"But that's not you. You're a crop duster, and all you do is just dust crops at very low speeds," she replied, leading him on that she believed him.

"Yep, low and slow," replied Dusty.

"Unless you've been racing again," she shouted pointing her wrench at him.

"No. What me. No," he replied.

Just then Chug sped in honking his horn.

"Oh, man, Duster. You were in the zone where a Saturn rocket couldn't catch you," Chug said out loud, not noticing that Dottie was there.

Dusty was just shaking his engine cowl at Chug telling him to be quiet. I couldn't help but snicker.

"Ballistic. We're talking light speed. Light speed, here. You're going to tear it up at the qualifier this weekend. Yea... Oh Shelby," Chug said now noticing that Dottie was there.

Dottie turned and looked at Dusty accusingly.

"Umm. I don't know," said Dusty.

"Annnnnnnnnnnd, here comes Dottie's big elaborate speech," I said annoyed.

Dottie turned and threw one of her wrenches at me. It hit my engine cowl.

"Owwwwww, that hurt," I said.

"Good," she replied.

Dottie turned back to Dusty.

"Dusty, you're not built to race. You're built to dust crops. Do you know what will happen if you push it too far. Wing flutter, metal fatigue, turbine failure," she asked.

"Turbine failure," gasped Chug.

"Oh, no, I'm going down. Why didn't I listen to Dottie. She's the smartest mechanic in the world. Oh my gosh," she gasped.

"What," asked Chug.

"The orphanage. Kids, fly out of the way. Kaboom," she shouted throwing her wrench onto the floor.

The wrench bounced around, and hit the lamp behind Dottie, who by now was faking death, rolled onto her side, and groaning dramatically.

"Wow. That was vivid, and specific. And that's exactly why I need you to come with us to the qualifier," Dusty said.

"You're unbelievable," she replied.

"Oh, you hear that. I'm unbelievable," Dusty said.

"The orphans," sobbed Chug.

Dottie sighed, and drove out of the shop.


	3. Skipper, and the Time Trials

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

Chapter 3: Skipper, and the Time Trials

Location: Dusty's Hanger, Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Time: July 10, 2013, 8:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

Me, Dusty, and Chug were hanging out at Dusty's hanger watching the Racing Sports Network, also known as RSN.

_**"Tune in, in two weeks for the start of the Wings Around the Globe,"**_ said Brent Mustangburger.

"You know, I think we got a really good shot at this, guys," said Dusty.

"Oh yeah. Especially if I finish this book by then," said Chug pulling out the Air Racing for Dummies book.

Just then the show Top 10 Crashes came on.

"Oh, I love this show," said Chug.

"I don't," I replied.

The 10th crash was a plane about to take off a small platform, but nose-dived, and broke his engine.

"Whoa, oh," said Chug.

"Not good," said Dusty.

The 9th crash was a plane flying through some pylons, but he hit the pylons and crashed on the ground.

"That is not going to buff out," groaned Dusty.

"You know, this might not cover everything you two could run into out there," said Chug.

"Well, what are you getting at," I asked.

"I don't know. I'm just wondering if maybe we need, uh, some help," suggested Chug.

"Help. From who," asked Dusty.

"Oh, uh, well the Skipper," Chug said.

"That old Corsair down at the end of the runway that's friends with Saber here," asked Dusty.

"Sure. He's a war hero," replied Chug.

"He's an old crankshaft," said Dusty.

"Hey, that's my friend your talking about," I said narrowing my eyes.

"Anyways my buddy, Sparky, says the Skipper was a legendary flight instructor in the Navy. That's right. He knows stuff," Chug continued.

"He's been grounded for decades. Why would I want to coached by a plane who doesn't even fly," asked Dusty.

"At least he's a plane," Chug replied turning his attention back to the TV.

"_**And the number one crash of all time..." CRASH BANG...**_

"Oh, man," groaned Chug.

"_**I'm okay,"**_ said the plane that crashed, just before he burst into flames.

"_**Ooh. That's got to hurt,"**_ Brent said.

"Yeeeeah, let's go see the Skipper," Dusty said.

"You guys are you're own. I'm not getting involved in this," I replied.

Location: Skipper's Hanger, Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Time: July 10, 2013, 8:30 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

"I don't know how you managed to convinced me to come with," I groaned.

"Cool your engine. It'll be fine," replied Chug.

"Easy for you to say," I said as we rolled up to Skipper's Hanger.

"They say he shot down 50 planes. I heard stories about his squadron, the Jolly Wrenches," Chug said.

"Mm, Hmm," replied Dusty.

"They were the roughest, toughest, meanest flyers in the navy. Ruthless killers who showed no mercy," continued Chug.

"Wait so...," started Dusty.

"No mercy," replied Chug.

A moment of silence passed.

"They would shoot you as soon as look at you," Chug said.

"I hope you're right about this," replied Dusty ringing the doorbell.

Meanwhile, Chug had backed away, and was hiding behind some crates.

"Chug," I said questioningly.

"I'll wait here," he replied.

Just then Skipper's hanger door opened, and revealed an annoyed Skipper.

"Uh, hey there, Skipper. Say me and Saber are trying out for the Wings Around the Globe Rally. And I know you can't fly anymore. But, you know, "Those who can't do, teach." So.. uh, okay what I mean to say is, you're not a truck. So I was wondering if you, uh, would train me," Dusty asked.

Skipper looked at Dusty, and then his hanger door slammed shut.

"Go on. He's warming up to you," said Chug, who now had a different hiding position.

"Ugh, I've had enough of this. I'm going back to my hanger," I said.

As I headed back to my hanger, I could hear Dusty ringing Skipper's doorbell again. I pulled into my hanger and folded up my wings.

"Yep, Dusty is going to get himself killed," I said to myself as I dosed off.

Location: Saber's Hanger, Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Time: July 11, 2013, 6:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

I woke up to the sounds of a bugle going off, and then Jimi Hendrix's National Anthem being played.

"Will you turn that disrespectful junk off," asked a plane nearby.

"Respect the classics, man. It's Hendrix," replied a truck.

(Sorry, just had to throw that in there.)

Just then my doorbell rang. Rolling towards the door, I answered it.

"You ready to go," asked Dusty.

"To what," I replied yawning.

"To the time trials," he asked.

"Aww, Spitfire," I cursed.

I quickly started my engine and rolled over to the fuel depot. I was refueled, and then taxied onto the runway. I check my instruments, and prepped for take-off. I went full throttle and I was off into the air. Dusty took off a few seconds later. When he was ready to go, we started flying towards the Lincoln Airport.

Location: Lincoln Airport, Lincoln, Nebraska, Time: July 13, 2013, 12:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

We had finally arrived at the Lincoln Airport. Me and Dusty were just flying over the fence when Chug shouted.

"Hello, Lincoln. Hey guys."

When we landed, Dottie was just rolling off of Chug's trailer.

"I don't know how you talked me into coming to this."

"Now, come on, Dottie," Dusty replied.

"Wow. I don't believe it. A red-tailed P-51," said Chug excitedly.

"Oh man. A Sea Fury," I said pointing out the plane.

Just then a bi-plane flew over us.

"Wow," said me, Dusty and Chug in unison.

"_**Ladies and gentleplanes. May we have your attention, please. Kindly direct your windscreens to the heavens above and give a warm welcome to our special guest. The Prince of Propellers. When he speeding, he's leading,"**_ said a green and white plane on a P.A. System.

Just then a green and black racing plane flew overhead, and leaned toward us to get his picture taken.

"_**When he's grinning, he's winning. The one, and only...,"**_ said the two planes as they introduced their Captain.

"Ripslinger," he shouted as he slid to a stop on the runway.

The crowd cheered.

"You're caught in the riptide. Thanks for coming out. Who wants a picture," he asked the crowd.

"Well, with all that self-promotion, at least he's modest," Dottie coughed.

"Dottie, That's Ripslinger," I said.

"He's captain of Team RPX. They call him...," started Chug.

"The Green Tornado," Chug, Dusty and I said in unison.

"Oh, he's so good, he's pre-qualified. Oh, and those two. Ned and Zed," Dusty said.

"The Twin Turbos," the three of us said together.

"They're world-class racers," I added.

"You know, I hear they used to be one plane, and were separated at birth," Dottie replied sarcastically.

"Wow. I wish I was separated at birth," said Chug.

Location: Lincoln Airport, Lincoln, Nebraska, Time: July 13, 2013, 6:30 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

Many planes tried out, and all five qualifier spots were filled. However, no one could break the times. Finally it was my turn. As I taxied over to the starting line, I heard Ripslinger whispering.

"You got to be kidding me. That old-timer is going to race. I bet he can't get over 100 miles per hour," he said.

I started my engine, and full throttled it. It roared loudly. I released my parking brake, accelerated down the runway, and took off. I was going at a steady 150 mph, and I kicked it up a notch.

I cleared the horizontal, knife edged through the red pylons, and turned around lining up for the 270-Degree High G-Turn. I made it through, and was now at 330 mph. I cleared the three pylon chicane. Finally, I made it to the final part of the course, the Half-Cuban eight. I maxed my torque, and cleared the loop, and landed with a time of 01:22:30, crushing Joey Dundee's time. I was in the race. I could only hope Dusty would make it in too.

As I rolled to a stop, I taxied over to Ripslinger.

"You were saying something about me being an old-timer," I asked him and pointing to my time.

He looked at my time, then back at me. The look on his face was a mixture of shock and anger. I shrugged, he turned and taxied away, grumbling.

As I rolled over to Dusty, Dottie, and Chug were getting him ready for his qualifier round.

"Fueled and Ready, man," Chug said.

"Okay, bud. You're up," said a forklift to Dusty.

"Good and tight. All set," said Dottie who had just finished tightening a few bolts on Dusty.

"This is it," he said nervously.

"_**From Propwash Junction, Strut Jetstream,"**_ said the forklift who had been announcing the racers.

"Strut Jetstream," Dottie asked curiously.

"Yep. Awesomest call sign ever. It was my idea," replied Chug.

"Ah. That explains it," Dottie mused to herself.

"_**Hey, ag-plane. Landscaping was yesterday, man. Get off the runway. We're racing, here. Second call for Strut Jetstream,"**_ he called out.

"Yo. I'm Strut Jetstream," Dusty said.

"_**You're Strut Jetstream,"**_ he asked.

"Yep," replied Dusty.

"_**A crop duster. Man, what's going on here. Is everyone getting to fly today. Man, your momma must have had high hopes for you. Now, you know your built for seed, not speed,"**_ he said.

"You have got to be kidding me. That farmer's going to race," laughed Ripslinger.

"Seriously. With a prop that small," asked Zed.

"Maybe he races that leaky, old fuel truck next to him," suggested Ned.

"Who are you calling leaky. I'll leak on you, if you don't check your intake," Chug said angrily.

"Don't lower yourself to their level. Go on Dust... Go on, Strut," Dottie said encouraging Dusty.

Planes and Cars started laughing at Dusty as he got ready for take off.

"Go, Duster," said Chug.

"_**This is going to be a tall order for him to knock Fonzarelli out of fifth place,"**_ said the judge.

All of the voices, and background noises blurred as I kept a close eye on Dusty as he took off.

"_**And, he's off."**_

Soon Dusty completed all of the challenges and landed. As we rolled over to congratulate him, his time was announced.

"_**Jetstream, the official time is 01:24:26 seconds. Sixth Place, but what a close one, people,"**_ said the judge.

Dusty looked devastated. Just then one of the qualifiers taxied over.

"Hey, pal, sixth place ain't nothing to be ashamed of. That was a heck of a run," he said.

"Thanks," replied Dusty sadly.

That night me and Dusty flew back to Propwash. As I relaxed in my hanger, I felt bad for Dusty. I made a decision.

"Tomorrow, I will tell Dusty that I'm forfeiting my spot so he can race," I said to myself as I dosed off.


	4. Dusty is in, and Training with Skipper

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

Chapter 4: Dusty is in, and Training with Skipper

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, The Highway in the Sky, Time: July 14, 2013, Time: 6:30 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

I was on an early morning flight, trying to clear my thoughts. Flying high always cleared my thoughts, but today it just wasn't working. My fuel light started flashing signaling that I needed to take on more fuel. As I turned around and started to descend, I noticed what appeared to be a delivery truck driving towards Propwash. Landing on the runway, I taxied over to Chug who was just finishing up fueling Mayday, our local fire engine.

"There you go, topped and all set Mayday."

Suddenly the delivery truck appeared, and skidded to a stop. It was a Wings Around the Globe Rally delivery truck. A voice shouted from inside.

"Will you stop. Unbelievable. Why don't you just go back. I mean, I think you actually missed a pothole."

The delivery truck's back door rose up, and out drove a forklift.

"Man you got to be the worst, I mean, the worst delivery truck that has ever delivered a delivery."

The forklift started coughing on the dust that had been stirred up by the truck. Chug rolled over to him.

"Can I help you?"

"Please tell me this is Propwash Junction," asked the forklift.

"Sure is," replied Chug.

"Oh, finally. You know, your not even on the map," the forklift said.

"Yeah, pretty drive though, ain't it," I asked.

"Oh, yeah. Especially if you like looking at dirt and corn. Anyways, I'm looking for a Strut Jetstream," replied the forklift.

"Hang on a second," I said taxiing over to Dusty who had just landed.

"Yo, Dusty."

"Yeah?"

"There's a forklift who's looking for a Strut Jetstream."

As I pointed my wing over to where Chug was, me and Dusty quickly rolled over there.

"Hey, I'm Strut Jetstream."

Chug laughed.

"Oh yeah. That's right. I knew I'd remember. There he is, strutting on over here."

Dusty continued to talk to the forklift.

"But you're mispronouncing it slightly."

"I am?"

"Mmm-Hmm. Yeah. It's actually pronounced "Dusty Crophopper."

"Dusty Crophopper."

"Yeah. It's Scandinavian."

"Right... and I'm Egyptian."

The forklift rolled closer to Dusty.

"Googly moogly! What is that smell?"

"It's Vita-minamulch."

"Vita-mina-what?"

Just then Leadbottom rolled up.

"The finest-smelling compost this side of the Mississippi. Original, creamy, and chunky style. Mmmm. Oh yeah. Smell that? It's like daffodils and like Sunday dinner. Ohhhh, I just love it. I love it. _I got some minamulch, yeah! I got some minamulch, yeah!_"

"That old airplane needs some help. Y'all know that, right," asked the forklift.

"Yeah," replied me, Dusty and Chug.

The forklift continued talking.

"Are you familiar with the racing fuel additive, nitro methane?"

Chug replied.

"Oh yeah! Zip juice. Go-go punch! That stuff will blur your vision, and slur your speech."

"It's illegal?"

"Totally illegal. Wouldn't know what it looks like. Yeah, you were saying?"

"That substance was found in the tank of the fifth-place qualifier, Fonzarelli. Illegal fuel intake is an automatic DQ."

Dusty spoke up.

"Wait, so you're saying?"

"He's out, your in. Congratulations."

Chug looked at Dusty, unsure.

"You're in?"

"You betcha your fender, he's in," I said proudly.

Chug looked all around, grinning.

"He's in! You're never going to believe this. He's in! Dusty's in the race! Dottie, he's in!"

A couple of the planes cheered. Mayday, Sparky, and Dottie, who had a shocked look on her face rolled over to us.

"What? Are you serious?"

"Woo! Dusty," cheered Sparky.

"Don't do anything crazy. Fly safe," Dottie said to Dusty.

Chug and Sparky started talking about the dangers of the race.

"Man, it's going to be cool. You two are going to be crossing oceans thousands of miles wide. Freezing your rudder off one day..."

"Oh, and burning it off the next..."

"Freaking hurricanes..."

"Oh, Cyclones.."

"Typhoons!"

"Monsoons!"

"Tornadoes!"

"Sandstorms!"

"Gale Force Winds!"

"Yeah!"

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Dusty's Hanger, Time: July 14, 2013, 12:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

Me and Dusty were looking at the race routes when Skipper was pushed in by Sparky.

"Bad idea. You two will end up being smoking holes on the side of a mountain with your parts spread over five countries."

"What makes you say that," I said angrily.

"You two are going up against the best racers in the world. And some of them don't even finish. You two are sloppy on your rolls, wide on your turns, and slow on your straightaways."

"You've been watching us," asked Dusty.

"Yeah, watching you two make fools out of yourselves. You two need to be tighter getting in and out of your knife-edge. Any extra control input cost you speed and seconds."

"So you think we're over-correcting," I asked.

"Absolutely. Rookie mistake."

"Are you giving us pointers," Dusty asked.

"No! I'm telling you two to forget this racing malarkey. One, Saber you're not used to tech of this era yet, and Dusty, you just ain't built for it. You're a crop duster!"

"You don't think he knows that? You don't I know that? I'm the one who has been flying back and forth across the same fields, day after day, month after months, for years! I've flown thousands of miles and I have never been anywhere."

I threw in my two cents as well.

"I'm a war-plane, Skipper, and yet somehow, I survived a battle and was time-warped to the future. I have been working my hardest to learn about modern technology. I can do this!"

Dusty continued talking.

"We're not like you. You were built to fight, and look at what you did! You're a hero. We're just trying to prove that maybe, just maybe, we can do more then what we were built for. You know what? Just forget it. You'll never understand."

Skipper stared at us for a few seconds and spoke.

"0500, tomorrow. Don't be late."

"Wait, 0500," asked Dusty.

"Yeah, 5:00 A.M." replied Sparky as he pushed Skipper out of the hanger.

Me and Dusty turned to each other and grinned.

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Training Grounds, Time: July 15, 2013, 5:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

Me and Dusty got up bright and early, and we quickly flew over towards Skipper's hanger. The night before Dottie installed a new headlight system on my wings, as well as new marker lights, a radio, and a satellite GPS.

Skipper's voice came onto our radios.

"_**Saber, is the new radio Dottie installed functioning correctly?"**_

"Works like a dream, Skip."

"_**Okay you two, remember this. It ain't how fast you fly, it's how you fly fast."**_

"Roger that," replied Dusty.

"_**Show me what you got."**_

Me and Dusty flew up and down over some trees.

"_**Great, you can go up and down. What else? Show me your turns."**_

Dusty made his turn a little too wide, while mine was too tight.

"_**You think that was good? That stunk! Knife-edge those elm trees. Oh come on, keep your noses up."**_

I barely I heard Sparky's voice on the other end. He was telling Skipper something. Skipper's voice came back onto the radio.

"_**You two want speed right? Serious, bolt-rattling speed? Then look up. Do you see those clouds? The highway in the sky. Tailwinds like nothing you've ever flown."**_

I was already ascending into the air. Skipper's voice came back on the line.

"_**What are you waiting for, Dusty? Saber's already going up. Come on, power up. Firewall thrust. Max torque, max torque! All right, looking good. Hold V-Y, Dusty. Max rate, now. You're nose is too high. Get your nose down. You're going to stall. Ease off the pitch. Nose down! Hey, what are you doing."**_

Feeling like something was wrong, I radioed to Skipper.

"What's going on with Dusty, Skip?"

"_**I don't know, but you better get down here."**_

"I'm heading back now."

Descending from the clouds, I turned around and headed back to Propwash.

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Time: July 15, 2013, 6:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

I had just landed in time to see Dusty lying to Skipper. Skipper then spoke up.

"The Jolly Wrenches have motto, _Volo Pro Veritas._ It means "I fly for truth." Clearly you don't. Sparky, push me back to the hanger."

Dusty spoke up.

"I'm.. I'm afraid of heights."

Skipper stopped, and was turned around. Chug looked at Dusty curiously.

"But you're a plane?"

"I'm a crop duster. I've never flown over a thousand feet."

Skipper crossed his eyes.

"Are you kidding? Scared of heights and you want to race around the world?"

Sparky spoke up.

"Uh, Skip, during the attack of Tujunga Harbor, why, even the P-38's had trouble at high altitudes."

"Well, they didn't have to fly over the Himalayas, did they?"

Dusty started speaking.

Well, I'll still be low to the ground just high up."

Sparky continued and Chug joined into the conversation.

"Oh, and after the war, those 38's went on to win races."

"Really? Is that true?"

"Yeah, true. Like in the Cleveland race of '46."

"For real?"

"Wait, it get's better. In '49, the P-38 Sky Ranger averaged 337 miles per hour."

"Wait, 337?"

"Well, actually 337.4, but they round it down in the record books."

"Why would you do that?"

"Some people just have no respect for decimal points. Why couldn't they round it up?"

Finally, Skipper lost his patience and interrupted Sparky and Chug.

"All right, all right. So, you're a flat-hatter. We'll work on that. But for now let's see if we can turn low and sloppy into low and fast."

"Roger that," me and Dusty replied.

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Skipper's Hanger, Time: July 16, 2013, 5:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

Me and Dusty were listening to Skipper explain his training plan.

(Author's Note: I'm not going to explain this part all in detail. If you've seen the movie, you know what happens. If you haven't, use your imagination.)

"It'll go like this. The flag marks the start line. Across the cornfields, three silos are waiting for you. Slalom those with a radial-G pass. Once you get to the trees, go to your optimal rate of climb about 500 feet. Roll inverted and extend, trading altitude for airspeed, and dive toward the finish line. You string that all together, you might have a chance to beat him."

"Who are we racing," I asked.

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Training Course, Time July 16, 2013 10:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

Me and Dusty were flying towards the starting line when Skipper's voice crackled to life on our radios.

"_**Here he comes. He's a twin commuter pushing about 1500 horsepower."**_

"_**Uh, he's pretty high up,"**_ Dusty said nervously.

"_**You're not racing him, you're racing his shadow. Beat it to the water tower,"**_ Skipper replied.

We did the course, but we lost the race. Dusty had his power increased by Dottie, and we trained harder. The start of the Wings Around the Globe Rally was coming up fast.

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Training Course, Time: July 25, 2013, 12:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

Today is the day. The training run where we give all we got. Skipper's voice crackled over the radio.

"_**Alright, you two. Give this run all you've got. Use your radial-G. Let gravity work for you. Looking good. That's what I'm talking about. Firewall the throttle! Go! Go! Go!"**_

We maxed our torques out, and zoomed by some tractors, who mooed and tipped over.

"_**Begin your climb! All right, altitude for airspeed. Catch him in the dive! Dive now!"**_

Dusty and I dived towards the finish line. Our engine cowls passed the commuter's shadow, and we crossed the finish line, beating the commuter.

"Haha, we did it, Dusty," I cheered.

"Yeah!"

We turned around and headed back to Propwash to celebrate.

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Skipper's Hanger, Time: July 25, 2013, 3:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

We were in Skipper's Hanger getting repainted. The faded Jolly Wrenches insignia on both sides of my engine cowl, and the faded 53's had been repainted. I also had S53 painted on both sides of my tail. Dusty had D7 painted on his tail, and the Jolly Wrenches insignia painted on both sides of his engine cowl as well.

"Whoa. The piston and cross-wrenches. Your squadron insignia."

Skipper smiled.

"You've earned it."

Chug sobbed in the corner.

"It fits you. It fits you, Dusty."

Skipper gave Dusty and me some advice.

"Now listen. When the race starts and all the planes take off, it'll stir up a bunch of swirlies just like the Wrenches ran into in the Battle of Airway."

I spoke up.

"Roger that. Sure wish you were coming with us, Skip."

"Just radio back when you two get to the check points. I'll be your wing-man from here."

Dusty spoke up.

"_Volo Pro Veritas,"_, Right?"

"_Volo Pro Veritas,"_ Skipper replied.

Chug, Dottie, and Sparky wished us luck.

"Kick some tail, guys."

"We're all proud of you two."

"Woo-hoo. Dust-meister, and Sparks."

That night, me and Dusty flew towards the east. To the city that never sleeps. To the Wings Around the Globe Rally.

* * *

This took me two hours to write, even with the help of the Planes DVD. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, and stay tuned for the next chapter which starts the race.

Until next time,

Grimlock, King of Arendelle


	5. Meeting The Racers, and The Race Begins

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

Author's Note: Saber meets a future love interest. I'm not giving anymore details out, but if you read it you will understand.

El Chu's Language: _avion pequeno_ is translated into small plane in English. _Amigo_ translates to friend in English. Pretty common knowledge.

Chapter 5: Meeting The Racers, and The Race Begins

Location: New York City, New York, Time: July 30, 2013, 9:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

"Finally, we made it, Dusty."

"Yep, we sure did Saber."

Just then the control tower at JFK Airport radioed in.

"_**Break, Break. Air Racers, 7 and 53, Air Racers, 7 and 53. Do you read? Kennedy approach, over?"**_

Dusty radioed back.

"_**I'm Dusty Crophopper."**_

I radioed in as well.

"This is Saber Sparkplugs. We're looking for JFK Airport, over?"

"_**You two are supposed to be on the Carnice Visual. Turn further left, heading 1-9-5. Maintain 1,000 feet. Intercept the 22 right localizer. You are cleared for ILS 22, right approach. Heavy is sectored in behind you."**_

Dusty radioed back in, unsure.

"_**Uh, run that by us one more time."**_

"_**Turn further left, heading 1-9-5, maintain 1,000 feet..."**_

I spoke up.

"Never mind, we got it."

Me and Dusty landed on the runway. As I taxied off the runway, the control tower radioed back in.

"_**Crophopper 7, you passed Foxtrot, turn left onto Charlie. Get off the runway!"**_

I quickly turned around to see Dusty nearly get smashed by an airliner. He taxied over to me, panting.

"Let's... go... find... pit... row."

Me and Dusty then taxied around trying to find Pit Row. As we taxied around, we almost got hit by a tower towing an airliner.

"Sorry," I said.

"Go back to Jersey, you bums."

Then we almost collided again with a baggage tower towing some luggage.

"Hey-ho, do you mind? I'm working here."

Finally we found someone who could help us. Dusty spoke up.

"Oh, hey, there. We're looking for pit row."

"The pits? Oh, yeah, that's easy. You want to go down this way toward the fire station. Then taxiway alpha forks off to the left. But don't go that way. You want to veer right. And if you get to the orange barrels, you went to far. So..."

Thankful the airliner who was being towed spoke up, and gave us the short answer.

"Just go straight ahead, and to the right."

I turned and thanked him.

"Great, thanks. Hey, nice paint job."

Me and Dusty taxied away towards the pits.

Location: JFK Airport, New York City, Pit Row, Time: July 30, 2013, 9:15 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

As we taxied along we arrived at the front gate to pit row. The forklift that told Dusty he was in the race saw us and spoke up.

"Well, looky who's here. The Scandinavian, and the war-plane. You two miss your home town? I don't. Just about blocked that memory out of my mind. But you two are bringing it right back with that... Oh man, that vita-mina-stink-a-bunch. You're tents are the last on the left. Go!"

"Okay, see ya," I replied as me and Dusty taxied towards our tents.

As Dusty looked around he saw some famous planes. One grabbed his attention. It was a red, white, and blue plane with the England flag painted on the top of his fuselage.

"Wow! Bulldog? From the European Cup? The Big Dog! Hey, I saw you do this unbelievable high-G vertical turn. How did you do that?"

Bulldog replied in a smug, British accent.

"Well, let me tell you. In fact, why don't I tell you all my racing secrets?"

I spoke up.

"Yeah, right. You aren't going to tell us anything because of the motto "Everything plane for himself". Blah, blah blah. I have heard this speech before, and I refuse to hear it again. Goodbye."

As I taxied away, I accidentally bumped into a twin-prop female cargo plane, knocking over some oil cans she was trying to move into my tent. I quickly apologized.

"Oh, my gosh. I'm so sorry. Here, let me help you."

I took one of my wings and picked up the can with the tip of it. After I set everything right, the female cargo plane looked at me, and spoke.

"It's quite alright, I wasn't watching where I was going either. Oh, I almost forgot to introduce myself. I'm Elena, but everyone calls me Ellie, rawr."

Staring into the beautiful, but hyper-active plane's green eyes, I spoke up.

"I'm Saber. I'm one of the racers."

She rolled over next to me, and whispered.

"I hope you win the race. Here's my number."

Lowering one of her pontoons on her wings there was her number. Memorizing the number, I spoke up.

"Thanks."

She raised her pontoon back into place, turned and mouthed words to me.

"_Call me!"_

I nodded my engine cowl. She turned, and taxied towards the runway.

Just as I was going to park in my tent, I heard someone shout out in Spanish, and then switch to English, with a Spanish accent.

"The hero of the people has arrived!"

Silence followed. The Spanish plane looked around.

"You have never heard of the great El Chupacabra?"

One of the racers spoke up.

"Hey, isn't that the monster that siphons fuel from small vehicles?"

El Chupacabra just shook his engine cowl.

"No, no no, it's just a stage name designed to strike fear into my opponents."

Dusty spoke up.

"Yeah, he's the indoor racing champion of all Mexico."

"Indoor racing," asked Bulldog curiously.

El Chupacabra cheered, and spun around.

"And _numero uno_ recording artist, telenovela star, and romance novelist."

Bulldog looked at his crew.

"Did you say El Chupacabra, or El Cuckcoo-cabra?"

El Chupacabra sped over to him and looked him in the eye.

"You make joke? You make joke? Very well. You leave me no choice! I swish my cape at you! You have been shamed."

El Chupacabra turned and taxied down towards his tent. I taxied out to talk to El Chupacabra.

"Hey, there. Me and my friend Dusty saw you race on Telemoto last year."

Dusty spoke up.

"Of course, it was in Spanish, so we didn't understand everything."

El Chu looked at the both of us.

"I am flattered, _avion pequeno._ You two have done many of these long distance rallies, yes?"

I spoke up.

"Nope, this is our first one."

El Chu grinned.

"It is my first time as well. We will have many adventures, you and I. We will laugh, we will cry, we will dance! Probably not with each other."

"Of course," I replied.

"I will see you in the skies, _amigos_," El Chu replied as he sped off.

Me and Dusty looked at each other, and grinned.

Location: JFK Airport, New York City, Main Runway, Time: July 31, 2013, 4:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

This was it. Time to show the world what Dusty and I are made of. The racers including me, and Dusty were pulled onto the runway by forklifts into a cheering crowd.

Dusty and I looked in awe.

"Holy Smokes!"

"Wow," I replied.

We were brought to a stop and put into our positions.

Dusty spoke up.

"Whoa. Look at this crowd."

El Chu looked over to Dusty.

"Stay focused, _amigos._ Don't let anything distracted you. Ay-yay!"

Looking over to where El Chu was looking, I saw he was staring at the Canadian rally champ, Rochelle.

"Who is that vision," asked El Chu.

Dusty looked over and replied to him.

"That's Rochelle, the Canadian rally champ."

El Chu kept staring in awe.

"She is like an angel, sent from heaven. Like a sunrise after a lifetime of darkness."

Dusty tried to make a romantic comparison to Rochelle.

"Like fresh fertilizer on a field of dying grass."

El Chu and I looked at him, shocked.

This is not your thing, my friend," replied El Chu.

Just then the plane at the front of pole position spoke into a mic.

"_**All right, racers. Start your engines!"**_

All of the racers engines roared to life. My engine roared just as loudly as the day I started it for the first time all those years ago.

The starter grabbed the green flag. I closed my eyes, and talked to myself.

"_**Speed. I am Speed!"**_

I snapped my eyes open just as the green flag waved.

"_**Go!"**_

Releasing my brakes, I accelerated forward. We got closer and closer to the end on the runway. I lifted my elevators, and pulled into the air. As I flew up, I saw Dusty fly lower towards the ocean.

I radioed to him.

"Dusty, are you okay?"

His voice crackled onto my radio.

"_**Yeah, I'm just going to fly low. You go on ahead, I'll catch up."**_

"But, I..." I tried to reply, but Dusty interrupted me.

"_**Just go! I'm only going to slow you down. I'll be fine. Go!"**_

I accelerated faster and eventually caught up with the racers. I passed each racer, and had caught up to Ned, Zed, and Ripslinger, who was in first of course. Finally, we reached Iceland. I landed on the runway in fourth place. Leg one of the race was completed.

Location: Keflavík International Airport, Iceland, Time: July 31, 2013, 8:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

I was pacing in my hanger when I heard a voice call out.

"Hey, look who's finally here! It's that low-flying farmer boy!"

I rolled out of my hanger and saw Dusty covered in ice.

Ripslinger looked Dusty, and laughed.

"You do know that this is a race, right?"

Rolling over to a shivering Dusty, I pushed him into his hanger to get him warmed up.

Later me and Dusty were having a few cans of oil when Chug's voice came over the radio.

"_**This is Propwash Junction to Dusty Crophopper, and Saber Sparkplugs."**_

Dusty answered.

"We read you Chug."

"_**So what's it like racing with the big dogs, you two?"**_

I spoke up.

"Well Dusty's wings were frozen solid. He had icicles hanging off his sprayer."

Dusty interrupted me.

"And I nearly smashed into a ten-story iceberg."

Chug giggled from the other side.

"_**Awesome!"**_

Dusty spoke up, slightly irritated.

"Yeah, "awesome" is not quite the word that I would use to describe a gruesome near-death experience."

Chug tried to support him.

"_**You hang in there, buddy. There's nothing better then dying while doing what you love most."**_

Dottie spoke up.

"_**Ugh, that's going to make him feel a lot better."**_

Skipper spoke up and gave us some advice.

"_**Dusty, Saber, just like when the Jolly Wrenches were up in the Aleutians, the air down close to the sea has more moisture, which is why you took on ice. You got to try to fly higher, Dusty."**_

"Great," he replied.

Skipper's voice came back on.

"_**The good news is tomorrow's leg goes through the Bavarian obstacle course. It's all about agility, so it's your chance to move up. And remember, it's not speed that wins races, it's skill."**_

"Roger that, Skip. We're signing off, good night, guys," I said.

Dusty turned off the radio, and I headed towards my hanger. Parking in a corner of my hanger, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.


	6. Leg 2, and Pulling Ahead

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

El Chu's Language and other assorted things: _Fantastico_ means Fantastic. _Wunderbar_ means Wonderful. _Jelly_ is an internet slang word for Jealous.

Chapter 6: Leg 2, and Pulling Ahead

Location: Bavarian Obstacle Course, Germany, Time: August 1, 2013 10:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

Me and Dusty were racing through the Bavarian countryside when I saw Bulldogs left propeller fail, and spray oil into his windscreen, blinding him. Suddenly he started to dive and radio for help. As I dived towards him to help, Dusty radioed me.

"_**Saber, what are you doing?"**_

"Bulldog's left engine failed, I'm going to help him out."

Pulling up next to Bulldog, I shouted to him.

"Bulldog, apply your left aileron. Stop roll."

As Bulldog corrected his angle in the air, I saw a bridge up ahead.

"Now, quick, pull up. Harder, harder! Slight roll right. Good!"

We flew underneath the bridge, but a big castle stood in the way.

"Whoa! Big castle! Pull up! Hard roll right! Stop roll!"

Bulldog pulled up and flew between the two towers of the castle when he crashed through a banner. Bulldog called out to me.

"Are you still there?"

I quickly replied to him as we headed for the runway.

"I'm right here. I'll fly right alongside you."

In the distance I heard a P.A. Announcer telling the racers to clear the runway. As we neared the runway I talked Bulldog through the landing sequence.

"Add power. Easy, now. Good. Flaps down, lock them. Landing gear down. Begin your flare. Power back a little."

Finally, Bulldog's wheels touched the ground safety.

"Touchdown! Nicely done!"

As we slowed down to a stop, an ambulance, and a forklift with a hose rushed over. The forklift quickly sprayed water onto Bulldog's windscreen. As Bulldog's vision started to clear, he spoke up.

"Thanks for your help, matey. I couldn't have done it without... You? You saved me? What did I tell you, boy? Every plane for himself, right?"

I looked at Bulldog with sad eyes.

"I don't like to see others fall to their deaths. Especially after what happened to me. You may be a big pain in the tail-fin, Bulldog, but I don't give up on anybody. Not then, not now, not ever."

I taxied away, not noticing Bulldog's curious eyes watching me.

As I rolled towards my hanger, Ripslinger taxied over, and was about to say something, but I interrupted him.

"Go away, Rip. I don't have time to deal with your crap right now."

As I headed for the pub, a baby plane rolled up to me.

"Papa!"

Turning to her, I saw that she was a mix between a Hellcat, and a Spitfire. I spoke quietly to her.

"Hello there, little one. Where's your parents?"

She then looked sadly at the ground. As I pondered where her parents might be, something clicked in my engine block.

"She doesn't have parents. Either because her parents abandoned her or they're dead or she ran away."

Squatting low enough on my wheels, I looked her in the eyes.

"Tell you what? Let's go get some ice cream, okay?"

She giggled in response, and we taxied away to get ice cream. After we got ice cream, I went to the local orphanage with her in tow.

Ringing the doorbell, a elderly forklift answered the door and spoke in a German accent.

"Ya? What do you need?"

"Sorry for the disturbance, ma'am. This little plane here I found on the streets. She rolled up to me, and called me papa. I'm not her father, but I'm just wondering would you take her in?"

The elderly forklift looked at me, then the little plane. Finally, she answered.

"Ya, I will gladly take her in."

Grabbing the little plane gently by the wing, she pulled her inside. The look on the little planes face was heart-breaking. As I prepared to taxi away, I stopped. I thought back to my conversation with Bulldog.

"I don't give up on anybody. So, I'm not giving up on that plane."

Making a decision, I turned around, and rang the doorbell.

The elderly forklift answered the door.

"Ma,am, I'm currently in the Wings Around The Globe Rally right now. Is it possible that when the race is finished, I can come back here, and adopt the little plane I gave to you?"

She replied in slightly broken English.

"When does race end?"

"We cross the finish line in New York, August 7th, next week."

"Entirely possible then."

I smiled.

"Thank you so much, Ma,am. I'll try to arrive on August 7th."

As she shut the door, I headed back to my hanger. My somber mood had changed. I was happy, happier then I had been in a long time.

Location: Saber's Hanger, August 2, 2013, 6:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

I woke up to the sounds of clanging and banging across the runway. I rolled out of my hanger, and taxied towards the noise. Outside the hanger where the clanging was being heard sat El Chu, and a small teal green car with a trailer connected.

"What's going on?"

El Chu replied.

"Dusty's getting rid of...What's it called again, Franz?"

The small car replied.

"His sprayer. He uses it to dust crops with it."

I looked at the small car in shock.

"Oh, that's a surprise. When we were back at home, he didn't want to get rid of it."

Just then the hanger door opened, and out rolled the brand-new Dusty Crophopper. He had a new paint job, and no sprayer was attached to him.

"So..? So, what do you think?"

Franz and El Chu spoke up.

"_Wunderbar_, Dusty."

"_Fantastico._ It is freeing, yes?"

Dusty agreed.

"Yeah, you took the words right out of my mouth."

Location: Agra Airbase, India, Time: August 2, 2013, 5:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

We flew through the courses on our race to India. The most challenging part for me was flying underneath a ceiling of 1,000 feet, and not go above the clouds. Finally, we arrived in India. I was in eighth place, and Dusty was seventh. As the paparazzi interviewed Dusty, I noticed Ripslinger staring with an angry look on his face.

I chuckled to myself.

"He must be jelly."

Finally, Dusty was finished being interviewed, and we headed to our hangers to rest.

Location: Agra Airbase, India, Time: August 3, 2013, 1:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

After lunch, we radioed home.

"Uh, This is Dusty Crophopper, and Saber Sparkplugs, calling Propwash Junction."

Dottie's voice crackled onto the radio.

"_**Dusty, Saber. Seventh and Eight place!"**_

Chug's voice suddenly crackled on.

"_**Way to go, you two!"**_

Dottie spoke up.

"_**Hey! You finally removed your M5000, Dusty."**_

Chug's voice came back on, but he sounded confused.

"_**His what?"**_

Dottie replied with more technical terms.

"_**His Micro-Air-5000-D-L Aerial Applicator."**_

Chug was still confused.

"_**Use your words."**_

Dottie replied back irritated.

"_**His sprayer?"**_

"_**Right! Sprayer."**_

Skipper spoke up.

_**You two, you got a big leg tomorrow. How you feeling?"**_

Dusty and I started to speak but Chug interrupted.

"_**I can't believe it. The mighty Himalayas."**_

Dottie spoke up, and warned us of the dangers.

"_**You two, that vertical wind sheer is going to be wicked over those mountains."**_

Chug tried to comfort us.

"_**Well the good thing about being that high up, you see, there's not a lot of oxygen. So, if you crash, no explosion."**_

I glanced at Dusty nervously. Dusty spoke up.

"Great, Chug."

However, Chug kept going on and on. Finally, I lost patience.

"Chug, we got it."

Dusty spoke up.

"Skip, what if a guy wanted to fly through the mountains instead of over them?"

Skipper disagreed.

"_**Bad idea. The Wrenches flew through terrain like that in the Assault of Kunming. And Dottie is right. Wind coming over the peaks can stir up rotors that'll drag you right down. If you ask me, it's time to lug-nut up. You can fly a whole lot higher then you think, Dusty."**_

Dusty spoke up with a nervous look on his face.

"Roger that."

Dusty cut the transmission, and I headed over to my hanger to look at the racing maps. As I taxied away, I saw El Chu get rejected by Rochelle once more and Dusty went over to talk to him. Finally I reached my hanger and started going over the maps.


	7. The Iron Compass, and Love Machine

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

El Chu's Language and other assorted things: _¿Qué pasó?_ means what happened in Spanish. _Compadre_ means friend or companion in Spanish.

Author's Note: Here you go, folks. A chapter from Dusty's POV. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 7: The Iron Compass, and Love Machine

Location: The Himalayas, India, Time: August 4, 2013, 10:00 A.M.

_Dusty's POV_

Taking the advice that Ishani gave me, I flew down towards the railroad tracks that went through the mountains. As I rounded a bend, I gasped. There was a tunnel in the way. I looked up, and started ascending into the air. Soon, I had passed 1,000 feet. As I looked down, the wind and snow swirled around below. Breathing heavily, I cut power, and flew back down. As I flew away from the tunnel, I decided not to give up.

I flipped over, and flew towards the tunnel. Angling myself at the right angle, I flew into the tunnel. I turned my headlights on, and powered through. As my wings scraped the sides of the tunnel, a very loud screech was heard.

"Woah!"

It was a train blowing it's whistle. He must have saw me because he applied his brakes. Pulling up at the last second, I closed my eyes, and waited for the impact. But it never came.

Soon, I was flying in some clouds. Seeing a runway in the distance, I flew towards it. Landing on the runway, I called out to anybody who was here.

"Hello?"

My voice echoed around the runway. Suddenly, I heard a gong ring, and three forklifts rolled up to a platform. Turning to them, I spoke up.

"Is this where I'm supposed to be?"

Two of the forklifts hummed, and the third spoke up.

"That is one of life's great questions."

I gasped.

"I'm dead!"

Suddenly a voice from the mist called out, and a forklift emerged.

"Mr. Crophopper. Welcome to Nepal."

I was confused.

"I don't understand. Have the others left already?"

The forklift replied.

"Actually, no one else is here yet. You're in first place."

I was surprised.

"Really?"

Location: The Himalayas, Nepal, August 4, 2013, 11:30 A.M.

_Dusty's POV_

I was being interviewed by some reporters. Never before had I seen this many reporters. One of the reporters asked me a question.

"Dusty, how does it feel to be in first place?"

Smiling, I replied.

"It feels great. But more then anything, I'm just happy I fit through that tunnel. Guys, I got to tell you, if you're ever in a tight squeeze just..."

As I looked over a reporter, I saw Ishani. Something was different about her. Turning to the reporters, I spoke up.

"Excuse me, guys."

Rolling over towards Ishani, I spoke up.

"Crazy day today, huh?"

She gasped, and turned slightly to look at me.

"Oh. Yeah, a very exciting win for you today. Quite a risk you took."

I replied.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, your propeller, is it new?"

Turning around fully, she replied.

"Oh. I suppose it is."

Looking at her, I stared into her deep green eyes. They were beautiful, but they were hiding something.

"Sky Slycer Mark Five, right? Aren't those made exclusively for Ripslinger's race team?"

Ishani replied back, nervous.

"Are they?"

"Yeah. Yeah, they are."

Knowing she was caught, she spoke up.

"Dusty..."

She didn't get to finish as I spoke.

"You set me up."

"Look, I didn't ever want to hurt you."

"Why?"

"It's complicated, okay?"

"You could have gotten me killed out there today!"

"I really thought that you'd just turn around."

Finally, I lost my patience.

"Well, you were wrong. And I was wrong about you."

Turning away from her, Ripslinger rolled by. As I rolled by him, I spoke up.

"Hey, Rip. Thanks for first place. Oh, and thanks for Saber's second place."

Location: Shanghai, China, Time: August 4, 2013, 7:00 P.M.

_Dusty's POV_

We had arrived in Shanghai after completing Leg 5 of the race. Me and Saber were talking to Skipper on the radio.

"_**You two are really showing those big-time racers a thing or two, huh?"**_

I spoke up.

"Yeah, we head across the Pacific tomorrow, Skip. You and Saber were stationed there for a while, right?"

Skipper's voice replied with a hint of nervousness.

"_**Yeah?"**_

Saber spoke up.

"Remember Skip, I didn't arrive onto your squadron until '43, so you have more experience then I do."

"_**True. Well, here's my advice. Back in '41, during the battle of Wake Island, the Wrenches ran into some serious monsoons with embedded CBs that could tear your wings right off. Be careful. And one more thing... I'm proud of you two."**_

I spoke up.

"Thanks, wingman."

Just then Dottie's voice crackled onto the radio.

"_**Hey, you two, we have a surprise for you."**_

Chug's voice crackled onto the radio.

"_**Oh, oh, oh! You have to let me tell them."**_

Saber spoke up.

"Go ahead, Chug. Tell us."

"_**Uh...Oh, I know it. It's... It's on the tip of my tongue. I'll remember."**_

Dottie started to help him through it. Finally the surprise was revealed.

"_**Mexico! That's it! We're going to meet you two in Mexico."**_

I spoke up.

"Really?"

Chug replied on how they did it.

"_**Yep. Tickets are on Sparky and me. We sold 326 Dusty bobbleheads, 143 antenna balls, 203 spinner mugs..."**_

Sparky finished up the sentence.

"_**And 1,000 whistles. Go, Team Dusterino! Yeah!"**_

Saber spoke up.

"You sure you're up for it, Skipper?"

Skipper replied.

"_**You bet. Somebody else is doing the flying."**_

I spoke up.

"That's great news, guys. We'll see you in Mexico."

I was about to cut the transmission, but Saber stopped me.

"I need to talk to Skip privately."

"Okay, I'll see you in a little bit, Saber."

I taxied out of the hanger and rolled away.

Location: Shanghai, China, Time: August 4, 2013, 9:00 P.M.

_Dusty's POV_

After Saber talked with Skip, he came out of my hanger looking nervous, and looked up towards the stars.

"You okay, Saber?"

Snapping out of his stare at skies, he spoke up.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Dusty."

I looked at him curiously. Suddenly, El Chu came speeding out of his hanger.

"Hey, El Chu, where's the fire?"

El Chu replied.

"It is in my soul. Tonight, I shall win the heart of Miss Rochelle."

He sped off towards Rochelle's hanger.

Saber rolled over to me.

"This isn't going to turn out well. Let's go help El Chu out."

Saber sped off after El Chu with me following close behind.

Location: Rochelle's Hanger, Shanghai, China, Time: August 4, 2013, 9:30 P.M.

_Dusty's POV_

We had arrived just in time to see El Chu try to romance Rochelle by song. So far, it really wasn't working out.

**(Love Machine by The Miracles, Redone by ****El Chupacabra.)**

_**Ohhhhhh, haw-haw-haw-ay!  
Hmmmm, yeah! (Whoo!) **_

_**I'm just a love machine  
And I won't work for nobody but you  
Aaaah! Ha!**_

Me and Saber couldn't take anymore, and so we disconnected the power to lights, and the radio.

_**I'm just a love... **_machine? _¿Qué pasó?_"

El Chu looked over our way and saw us.

"Dusty, Saber, what are you doing?"

Me and Saber smiled as three forklifts rolled out. One was carrying maracas, another with candles and a blowtorch, and one with an acoustic guitar.

The one carrying the blowtorch ignited the candles. Then I pushed the candles out towards El Chu, who was very confused. As I rolled backwards, Saber spoke up.

"Low and Slow."

A forklift held up a sign to El Chu in Spanish so he could understand.

"Ohh," said El Chu. Then he went back into the song.

_**I'm just a love machine**_

_**And I won't work for nobody but you**_

_**(He's just a love machine)**_

_**I only work for you, baby (a hugging kissing fiend)**_

_**Yeah **_

_**My voltage regulator cools, (regulator cools)**_

By this time, Rochelle had opened her window of her hanger and was looking down at El Chu.

_**When I taxi next to you (next to you)**_

_**Electricity starts to flow**_

_**And my indicator starts to glow **_

_**Ooooh! I'm just a love machine**_

_**And I won't work for nobody...**_

_**But you!**_

El Chu said something to Rochelle in Spanish. Then Rochelle replied in French. Giggling softly to herself, she closed her window and went back into her hanger. El Chu was confused.

"What does that mean?"

Saber spoke up.

"No idea, but French-Canadian is the language of love in Quebec."

I spoke up as well.

"So, it's got to be good."

El Chu spoke up.

"I'm in your debts, _compadres_. If either you ever need me, I shall be there."

Saber spoke up.

"_Compadre_, I like it."

"Me too," I replied. With that said the three of us headed back to our hangers to rest for the longest leg of the race.


	8. Over the Pacific, and Facing the Past

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

El Chu's Language and other assorted things: _Senor_ means Mr. or Sir.

Author's Note: The character Rush belongs to RushandStreak. Used with permission. This chapter includes Saber's, and Dusty's POV's. Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Over the Pacific, and Facing the Past

Location: Pacific Ocean, Near Glendal Canal, Time: August 5, 2013, 7:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

The sixth and longest leg had started. I was very nervous because the course flew very close to the spot where me, Skipper, and the rest of our squadron was shot down. It was time to face the past.

Location: Glendal Canal, Pacific Ocean, Time: August 5, 2013, 8:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

As I flew near the last coordinates we reported to our superiors 70 years ago, I sighed.

"It's now or never."

Diving towards the water, I was pulled back into the memory of that day.

Explosions were around me. My teammates were being blown to bits. Down went Skipper, and Jigsaw 2. Then Lucas and Rush. Suddenly, a warning light went off. Realizing it was my altimeter warning I was approaching the ground, I pulled up. The battle faded into nothingness. I had conquered my fear.

Heavily breathing, I gained altitude and got back into the race. As I raced along, I turned on my radio. Dare by Stan Bush came on, and I accelerated faster.

Location: Mexico City, Mexico, Time: August 5, 2013, 9:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

Finally, we landed in Mexico. I was in fourth place. Zed was third, Ned was second, and Ripslinger was first. A few minutes after the rest of the racers landed, I noticed Dusty hadn't arrived yet. Suddenly I heard Ripslinger talking to some reporters.

"Senor Ripslinger, any comment on the disappearance of Dusty Crophopper?"

Ripslinger replied sadly. Something was telling me he was faking it.

"Dusty was a nice guy who flew the challenge and pierced the clouds of mediocrity. We're all going to miss him. Excuse me."

Ripslinger taxied away with Ned, and Zed. He was chatting with them.

"Let's just hope he makes a better boat than a plane."

I revved my engine madly, and sped towards Ripslinger with burning hatred in my eyes. He saw me coming towards him and tried to get away, but El Chu blocked him from moving any further. I stopped a few inches from colliding with him.

"How dare you do that to my friend!"

I smacked Ripslinger on his engine cowl. El Chu spoke up.

"Senor Dusty has 10 times the engine you do."

Ishani threw in her two cents.

"And 10 times the integrity."

Ripslinger replied smugly.

"Said the plane with the shiny new propeller. How much integrity did that one cost you, sweetheart?"

Ishani glared at him.

"Too much. You used to be a great champion. How the mighty have fallen."

Ishani rolled away sadly. El Chu grunted in disgust.

"You are not even worthy of a cape swish."

El Chu rolled away. Ripslinger rolled his eyes.

"Really? What are you still doing here, old-timer?"

That was the final straw. Turning away slightly so that my exhaust pipes were pointing at Ripslinger, I put on my parking brakes, and revved my engine into the red-line.

The combined heat with the exhaust boiled Ripslinger's paint, and melted it down to just the primer undercoat. Cutting my engine, I turned to Ripslinger.

"Well, look who's the old-timer now."

Flashing my signature grin, I taxied away.

Location: Saber's Hanger, Mexico City, Time: August 5, 2013, 9:30 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

I was trying to relax in my hanger when suddenly I heard shouting coming from outside. Opening my hanger door, I saw a helicopter lowering a plane. Not just any plane.

"Dusty!"

I quickly taxied as fast as I could over to him. Dottie, Chug, Sparky, El Chu and Skipper were waiting for Dusty to be fully lowered. Dusty was released from the rope, and we immediately surrounded him. Skipper shouted.

"Quick, to the hanger."

Location: Emergency Hanger, Time: August 5, 2013, 10:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

We were in the hanger checking over Dusty. Dottie took a look at the damage, and gave us the news.

"Broken wing ribs, twisted gear, bent prop, and your main spar is cracked...bad. It's over."

Dusty turned to look at Skipper.

"One mission? So much for _Volo Pro Veritas_."

Skipper looked sad.

"Can me, Saber and Dusty get a minute alone, please?"

Everyone started to drive out, except Sparky. I spoke up.

"You, too, Sparky."

Everyone cleared out and Skipper started his story.

"My first patrol as a Jolly Wrench was at Glendal Canal. Saber, and the rest of my squadron were all rookies. All razor sharp. I should know. I trained every single one of them. It was supposed to be a routine patrol. A milk run."

Flashback: _**Bold and Italic lines**_ means flashback talking, and no bold or italics means non-flashback talking.

"_**Look Skipper. Enemy Ship, Two O' Clock low, two miles. Easy pickings, what do you say." **_

"_**Negative, Jigsaw Two. Our orders are to recon, and report back." **_

"_**Oh come on, Skip, it'll be a turkey shoot."**_

"_**Let's do it, Skipper."**_

"_**Yeah, come on."**_

"_**Alright. Let's go in for a closer look, but keep your distance."**_

"_**Holy Cow, it's the whole enemy fleet."**_

Skipper continued his story as the memories came back to him.

"It was too late to pull up."

"_**Get out of there, Lucas!"**_

_Flashback end_

Author's Note: If you want more detail, check youtube.

"Almost my whole squadron, under my command. After that, I just couldn't bring myself to fly again. Let me ask you two something. If you two knew the truth about my past, would you have asked me to train you?"

Dusty quietly replied.

"No."

Dusty and I turned away from Skipper. Skipper apologized.

"I'm sorry you two."

Location: Emergency Hanger, Mexico City, Time: August 6, 2013, 6:30 A.M.

_Dusty's POV_

Saber and I had been staring at the wall for the entire night. Suddenly, Dottie rolled in, and spoke up.

"Dusty, Saber?"

I spoke up.

"Can you believe it? He hasn't been straight with us the whole time. At least you were honest. You said I wasn't built for this. I guess I should have listened to you."

Dottie rolled up to the front us.

"Dusty, if you had listened to me, I would never ever forgive myself. Look, the Skipper may have been wrong for what he did, but he was right about you two. Dusty, you're not a crop duster, and Saber you're not a war-plane. You're racers. And now the whole world knows it."

I spoke up.

"Thanks, Dottie."

Saber spoke up.

"That means a lot."

I sighed.

"I've gone as far as I can go. I'm busted up, look at me."

A voice spoke up. It was El Chu!

"Yes, look at you."

I started being pushed out by Dottie.

"Dusty, Saber, I cannot bear the thought of competing without you two."

One of El Chu's mechanic's pushed some wings next to him.

"Hey, that's the wing of a T-33 Shooting Star."

El Chu continued.

"When the great Mexican Air Force needed help, American T-33's came. They did not ask questions. They did not hesitate. They were there. Because that is what _compadres_ do."

I was confused.

"And what is that?"

"That is my lunch. Don't touch. But the wings are yours."

"El Chu, I really appreciate..."

"Shh, shh. _Sliencio._ After all, you helped me with my pursuits of the heart. Now we are here to help you."

"We?"

Rochelle appeared with a box of parts.

"Oui. Good luck tomorrow, Dusty. I am so proud to compete with you."

Bulldog taxied over.

"You're a good egg, Dusty. Look, here's a sat-nav device. Just in case...(Bulldog started sniffling.) In case you ever find yourself lost, you know, without a...Without a friend to help you through it."

I smiled.

"Thank you, Bulldog."

All of the racers, except Ripslinger, and his crew brought their spare parts to the hanger I was in. I spoke up.

"Thanks, everyone. Really."

Dottie looked over everything.

"This is fantastic. Looks like all you need now is a..."

Ishani taxied over with a propeller.

"A new propeller? How about a Sky Slycer Mark Five?"

I looked at Ishani.

"Wait, that's your propeller. You could still win the race."

Ishani giggled.

"Oh, I intend to, but with my old propeller. This one didn't really suit me. But I think you will have a lot better luck with it."

I smiled.

"Thanks, Ishani."

Turning to Dottie, I spoke to her.

"Dottie, can you fix me?"

Dottie smirked.

"Does a PT6A have a multi-stage compressor?"

The crowd went slient. Dottie spoke up.

"Yes! Yes it does. All right, you guys, let's get him ready to race."

Later that night, forklifts were working hard to repair me. Chug was sitting in a corner watching Ripslinger's previous wins. He noticed something about them, and rushed over to me, and Saber. When we finished discussing it, Saber spoke up.

"You sure this will work, Dusty?"

I looked at him nervously.

"It has to."

* * *

Okay, Here we go. Next chapter is the final chapter, and then we start on Fire & Rescue. See you later!


	9. The Final Leg, and A True Victory

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

Author's Note: Here's the final chapter. I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 9: The Final Leg, and A True Victory

Location: Mexico City, Mexico, Time: August 7, 2013, 6:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

Finally, after a long night of work, Dusty was ready to race.

As me and Dusty proudly taxied by the hangers, a lot of planes, forklifts, and cars were staring in awe at Dusty's new look. We reached Dottie, Chug, and Sparky. Dottie turned to us.

"We'll see you two in New York."

Dusty and I smiled.

"Thanks, guys."

As we taxied away, Chug, and Sparky cheered us on. As we neared the runway, a couple of planes saw us.

"Dusty! He's back!"

Behind them Ripslinger was sipping on some oil, but stopped when he saw us. He taxied over to us, and got into our faces.

"Bolting on a few new parts doesn't change who you are. I can still smell the farm on you."

Dusty chuckled.

"You know what? I finally get it. You're afraid.. of getting beat... by a crop duster. Well, check six, because I'm coming."

Dusty and I taxied away.

Location: Mexico City, Mexico, Time: August 7, 2013, 8:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

I had been given a severe time penalty for torching Ripslinger's paint, but it was totally worth it. I was set to take off at the same time Dusty was. We started our engines and revved them up. The stadium counted down to start in Spanish. The clock finished counting down, and we took off after the racers. I radioed to Dusty.

"Dusty, I'm right beside you the whole way. If we're going to fly low, we'll do it together!"

"_**Agreed. Let's go!"**_

We accelerated faster.

Location: Dead Stick Desert, Time: August 7, 2013, 10:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

We had past all the racers, and we were closing in on Ned, Zed and Ripslinger. Suddenly we heard Ned, and Zed above us.

"Hey, farmer and old timer."

"Time to plow the fields."

Ripslinger smugly spoke up.

"Look's like you run out of airspace, you two."

Dusty and I started to be pushed down by Ripslinger's landing gear. Suddenly, Ripslinger groaned in pain, and veered to the right. I was confused. I looked up and saw Skipper.

"Skipper?"

"_**Dusty, Saber, pull up!"**_

We pulled sharply up, and cleared a rock formation. Dusty was surprised.

"_**Skipper? You're flying!"**_

Skipper chuckled.

"_**Oh, so you two noticed. Listen, I got Rip. You guys take care of the other two."**_

I radioed back.

"Got it!"

We tried losing them, but they kept up with us. Skipper's voice crackled onto our radios.

"_**They're on your six, you two. You gotta lose them."**_

Dusty replied.

"_**We're trying."**_

We tried harder, but they still wouldn't give up. I radioed to Skip.

"Skip, we can't shake them."

Skipper radioed back.

"_**Pull hard right. I'll break left and take out Rip. Use the rocks."**_

Dusty replied.

"_**Roger that!"**_

Dusty headed for a small rock formation. I gasped.

"Dusty, I can't fit through that!"

Dusty radioed back.

"_**Go ahead of me and try!"**_

I accelerated forward and flew through the rocks, but just barely. Dusty knocked Zed's wing downwards causing him to spin out of control and collide with Ned, causing them to be trapped in the rocks. Finally, we caught up with Skipper. Skipper radioed to us.

"_**Dusty! Saber! You two okay?"**_

Dusty radioed back.

"_**Yeah. Yeah, we're fine."**_

Skipper chuckled.

"_**That was pretty good for a crop duster."**_

Dusty smirked.

"_**And not bad for an old-timer who doesn't fly."**_

Skipper got right back at Dusty.

"_**Oh, yeah? Well, I may be old, but at least I'm ain't afraid of heights."**_

Dusty chuckled.

"_**Oh, okay."**_

Skipper laughed but was cut off short when Ripslinger's propellers cut through Skipper's tail. Skipper started diving towards the ground and I shouted.

"No!"

Dusty and I dived after Skipper. Skipper had pulled himself up and was okay. Dusty gasped.

"_**Oh, no. Skipper are you okay?"**_

Skipper chuckled.

"_**Are you kidding? I'm great."**_

I spoke up.

"But what about your tail?"

Skipper got serious.

_**"I'll live. Go get them! Go!"**_

We accelerated forward, and raced after Ripslinger.

Location: The Final Stretch, Time: August 7, 2013, 11:30 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

This was it. The final stretch, and Ripslinger was just ahead. Dusty and I accelerated faster. Finally, we caught up with him.

Ripslinger looked to his left and right. He gasped.

"What?!"

Dusty replied.

"Hi."

Ripslinger growled and accelerated forwards passing Dusty and I. We tried to accelerated faster, but we were at our max torques. I groaned as I pushed myself.

"Come on. Come on. Not now! NO!"

I pulled power, and sighed.

"We'll never catch him now, Dusty."

I looked over at Dusty, and saw he was looking up.

"Dusty, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Dusty looked over at me.

"Yeah, I am. Let's go."

We started ascending into the air. Dusty kept telling himself not to look down. He looked, but he kept going. Soon, we were through the clouds. Dusty screamed because of the massive amount of speed he got. He got himself under control, and shouted.

"Oh, yeah!"

Dusty had conquered his fear. I shouted to him.

"You did it, Dusty!"

"Woooo-hooooo."

Just then I saw Ripslinger. He was nearing the finish line. I called to Dusty.

"Dusty, are you ready?"

Dusty looked down towards Ripslinger.

"Okay. Time to eat our dust!"

Dusty and I flipped over and dive-bombed towards the finish line. We got closer towards the runway. We flipped over and were right behind Ripslinger. Then, just like Chug said he slowed down for the cameras. Dusty and I started to pass Rip. Time seemed to slow down as we past him. Ripslinger shouted in surprise.

"What?"

Dusty shouted.

"Yes!"

Dusty had won! I got second place and Rip got third. Fireworks and confetti went off. Ripslinger shouted at us.

"Crophopper, Sparkplugs! Noooooooo!"

Rip crashed.

Dusty and I turned around to land just as the other racers had landed. Each of them cheered for us. Chug and Dottie rolled over.

"All right. Yeah! Now that's how to pass!"

Dottie cheered.

"You did it!"

Dusty turned to Dottie.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Dottie."

Dottie agreed.

"Yeah, I know."

I turned to Chug.

"Hey, Chug, great tip about Ripslinger leaning to the cameras, thanks buddy."

"Hey, anything for my pals."

Ishani taxied over.

"Well done, Dusty. The world has a new champion. And so do I."

Dusty looked at Ishani.

"Thanks, Ishani. For everything."

Dusty taxied closer to her, and kissed her.

A horn beeped. It was Franz! I nudged my wing against Dusty.

"Dusty, you got another visitor."

Dusty stopped kissing Ishani and looked to see who was there.

"Franz? What are you doing here?"

Franz spoke up.

"We came to watch you win the race. You are an inspiration to all of us."

Dusty was confused.

"All of us?"

"Yeah. All of us who want to do more than just what we were built for."

The crowd cheered. Dusty was in awe.

"Whoa! Thanks, guys!"

Just then a voice spoke up.

"Whoo-wee! Ripstinker. Yeah, that's your name. That's some supersonic sewer sauce. Man, I thought Vita-stink-a-bunch was bad. That's got nothing on you. Ooh! You're just nasty. Nastilicious. You need to go home and wash up. Twice. Whoo!"

Everyone started laughing. Suddenly, someone shouted.

"Who's that guy?"

A engine roar was heard, and Skipper appeared flying through the air. He looked down towards us, smiled, and went to land.

Dusty and I taxied over to him. Dusty spoke up.

"Thanks, Skip."

Skipper smiled.

"Don't thank me. I learned a lot more from you two than you'll ever learn from me."

The crowd cheered for us.

Location: USS Flysenhower, Pacific Ocean, Time: August 8, 2013, 5:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

Me, Dusty, and Skipper were going up to the flight deck of the Flysenhower. A whistle sounded and a forklift shouted.

"Attention on deck. Victory!"

Several planes spoke up, and put their wings up in a salute.

"Victory!"

Skipper and I rolled over to them. Skipper spoke up and we put our wings up in salute as well.

"It's an honor to be here."

We taxied over to the catapults. A forklift shouted.

"Hook them up."

All three of us were hooked up to the catapults. We flight checked everything, and started up our engines. I called over to Skipper.

"You ready, wing-man?"

Skipper chuckled.

"Roger that."

Echo and Bravo rolled over to Dusty. Bravo spoke to Dusty.

"An honorary Jolly Wrench. How's that feel, Dusty?"

Dusty grinned.

"It feels great!"

Echo chuckled.

"Back in the saddle again, eh, Skipper?"

Skipper replied back.

"Well, they didn't have these fancy toys the last time I did this."

Dusty explained how it worked.

"Nothing to it. They hook you up, you nod to the shooter over there, and hang on!"

They gave the signal, and Me, Dusty, and Skipper were launched into the air. I shouted in joy.

"Yeah! Wooooooo!"

After we flew a lap around the Flysenhower, I radioed to Skipper.

"Hey, Skip. Last one back to Propwash buys!"

Skipper chuckled.

"_**Ha-ha! You're on!"**_

Dusty and I whooped, and we headed back to Propwash.

* * *

Hey everyone! This story will have an epilogue and possibly some one-shots showing the time between this story and Still I Fly: Fire & Rescue. So look forward to that.

Until next time,

This is Grimlock, King of Arendelle signing off!


	10. Epilogue

Still I Fly

A Disney's Planes Story

Summary: Saber Sparkplugs is an F4U Corsair, trying to find his way in a more modern world. When he crashed during the Battle of Glendal Canal with his leader Skipper Riley, he never expected to be transported into the future. Can he overcome the painful memories of the past or will it come back to bite him in the tail-fin?

Author's Note: Here's the epilogue. Also, this has a preview for the next story. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 10: Epilogue

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Time: August 8, 2013, 10:00 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

Looking at Elena's number on my desk was nerve-wracking. I was trying to decide whether to call or not.

"Come on, Saber. You can do this. You've been in war before. Why is it so difficult for you to call a girl... And I'm talking to myself again."

I sighed, grabbed the phone, and I dialed the number. Elena picked up on the other end.

"_**Hello?"**_

Taking a deep breath, I spoke.

"Hi, Elena? It's me, Saber? We met during the Wings Around the Globe Rally?"

"_**Were you that Corsair?"**_

"Yeah, that was me. Listen, I was wondering whenever you had a break from cargo hauling, would you...Would you like to go on a date?"

"_**Yes. I would like that very much. Where do you want to meet?"**_

"How about where we met the first time? Where pit row was stationed?"

"_**Sure. When do you want to meet? I'm free between now, and September."**_

"Does August 12 at 7:00 P.M. work?"

"_**Yeah, that will work great. I'll see you then."**_

"Sure thing."

I ended the call and sighed. Things just got a lot harder.

Location: JFK Airport, New York City, Time: August 12, 2013, 6:45 P.M.

_Saber's POV_

I was very nervous for my date. I was worried that I would screw up.

"When I had to learn about the modern era, these types of things were not in the instruction manual."

Finally, it was 7:00. I looked towards the runway, and I saw Elena landing. I started taxiing over to her to greet her.

"Hey, Elena. You're looking very beautiful tonight."

Elena blushed.

"Thank you. So, what do you have planned?"

"I was thinking dinner, and a movie. So, did you watch the race?"

"Yes, I did. I'm glad you won second place."

"Thanks, Elena. Come on. Let's go."

With that said, we taxied away.

Location: Propwash Junction, Minnesota, Time: September 1, 2013, 5:00 A.M.

_Saber's POV_

Me and Elena had been dating for just over a month now, and the last night she was off-duty from cargo hauling, she spent the night. As I woke up, I saw her packing up for the return trip home.

"Hey."

Elena turned and looked at me.

"Hey. I have to go back to work now."

"I know. I love you, Elena."

"I love you too."

We kissed goodbye, and she went to the runway to go home. Meanwhile Skipper taxied over with my adopted plane behind him.

"Papa!"

"Hey, my little Sparkfire. Did Grandpa Skipper take good care of you?"

"Yep!"

Skipper gave me a look that said "You so owe me!"

"Come on. Let's go see how your Uncle Dusty's doing."

She sped off to go find Dusty. I chased after her playfully.

"Hey, come back here you!"

Those were some good times. But my life was just getting started.

(Planes: Fire & Rescue Trailer – Courage, Modified for this story.)

(Helicopter blades whirring; scene opens up on a huge forest fire)

(Siren)

"_**All Aircraft, we got a report of a wildfire."**_

(Still I Fly starts playing; scene turns to a firehouse, then to a forest)

"_**Dangerous work. But that's the job of a firefighter."**_

(Scene switches to several aircraft putting out a fire)

"_**There she burns, fellas."**_

"_**Risking they're lives for people they don't even know."**_

"_**You came here to become a firefighter."**_

(Scene switches to a small town at night)

"_**Good luck, Dusty!"**_

(Scene switches to a double-prop plane.)

"_**I will never understand why you would want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane."**_

"_**We're not. We're jumpin' out of you."**_

(Scene switches to two planes talking round a campfire.)

"_**You have a daughter."**_

"_**What?"**_

(Scene switches to an airbase.)

"_**I'm Dipper, but everyone calls me."**_

"_**Okay, Mrs."**_

"_**Miss.."**_

"_**Miss.. Dipper."**_

"_**Yeah. Rawr!"**_

"_**I can do this!"**_

"_**He's not certified." **_

"_**Just give him a shot."**_

"_**He's not certified."**_

"_**We need every plane we got."**_

"_**Crophopper!"**_

(Scene switches to a bar.)

"_**Hey, slicker-rims. Did you fall out of a B-17 cause your the bomb."**_

"_**Ugh, Pick-up trucks."**_

**They Fly In**

(Scene switches to a father and daughter talking.)

"_**I'm here, sweetie."**_

**When Others Fly Out**

"**I love you, dad."**

"**I love you too, sweetie."**

(Scene switches to logo)

**Still I Fly**

**Fire & Rescue**

_**Coming soon**_

* * *

Hey, everyone. I may or may not do a oneshot series for this story. But if I do, I will need your help for ideas.


End file.
